


Eternal Tethers

by FrozenMemories, Stormkpr



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Blood and Sand, Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Canon Divergence, Developing Friendships, Duro Lives, Fix-It, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-22 11:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30037707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenMemories/pseuds/FrozenMemories, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormkpr/pseuds/Stormkpr
Summary: What if Duro and Agron had not been sold to Batiatus together, but parted at the auction instead? One brother being sent to the ludus, to be trained among gladiators, the other sold to a villa, where he quickly bonds with a young slave by the name of Tiberius.How will the brothers fare apart from each other, and how will they ever find one another again?
Relationships: Agron & Duro, Agron/Nasir, Background Duro/Chadara, Duro & Nasir
Comments: 24
Kudos: 39





	1. Distant Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> We took some leeway with canon events and fixed a handful of unwarranted character deaths, while still mainly sticking to the original storyarc.
> 
> No specific content warnings but expect canon typical mention of violence and choice language.

Agron was no stranger to hardship. He had spent most of his life preparing for battles, to protect his land and his people, his hands ever in a tight grip around his sword. And so it had been a matter of honor and duty when he and his brother had joined forces as soon as word had reached their region of the mighty Roman republic expanding its borders into the lands of Gallia, and possibly Germania, as well.

They had moved Southwest on their adventures. The marches had been excruciating, yet their foolish excitement spurred them on against weather, hunger, and battle wounds. It was the life they had been destined for and Agron had never carried his weapon without pride, even though he was prone to cursing and complaining in abundance.

Having Duro at his side had been a blessing. His brother may not have been wielding weapons with the same skill and intuition as Agron always had, yet he was made of endurance and determination. Despite their blistered feet and empty stomachs the brothers maintained their spirits well, jesting and trolling to urge each other on. No fucking Gaul nor Roman would set foot upon their sacred homelands.

No sharp borders were drawn around the lands of Gallia, yet they encountered more fucking Gauls the further they progressed. Agron had advised, commanded even, Duro to stay close so he could have protective eyes upon him in battle. Mother would not have one return absent the other, thus stood their agreement. And Agron would honor it, as he had done for the past two decades.

Both Agron and Duro fought with honor and relentlessness, basking in their victories until that fateful day of their capture at the hands of Rome. Defeated and parted from their unit, Agron and Duro had been easy prey.

Provided little more than water, they were marched endlessly from one camp to the next, their numbers steadily thinning out. Packed like cattle onto a ship, their hands bound over their heads as the vessel rolled and tossed this way and that, their journey continued. Each man found himself sitting in filth, nauseated out of his mind - many of them loudly praying for death. The passage across sea had seemed everlasting, though it could not have been more than a few days until eventually they arrived upon foreign shores. Agron, Duro, and the others - still in chains - had been roughly herded through narrow streets and finally found themselves upon a marketplace, paraded to be sold off.

Slavery had not been unknown to Agron’s people before, yet he had not expected to ever stand upon these planks, bound in chains and displayed toward the leering eyes of Roman fucks.

He had cursed and spit his way up there, and received a notable number of strikes for his defiance. Yet it was no option to submit to this new level of degradation absent proper struggle. Beside him, Duro’s constant commentary provided some small measure of solace. They were in this together, come what may.

“Let the gods have mercy on the poor fuck who ends up taking us,” Agron raged under his breath, “for we shall burn down his house and see ourselves back home in no time.”

Duro snorted in reply.

The harsh whip of the lash across his chest came so sudden it took his breath from him and he hissed in pain. Gritting his teeth, he decided to force himself to restraint, to wait and see.

His decision lasted until the absolute worst came true, the event that Agron had feared ever since he and Duro stood defeated upon the battleground: Some Roman shit made an offer for only him. He was to be separated from his brother, his own flesh and blood, the one person he cared for most in this world. The prospect turned his spine to chills, even in the harsh heat of the Roman sun.

“I will not be fucking parted from my brother!” Agron roared, despite the sudden fear that threatened to constrict his throat. He did not care for the subsequent blow of yet another strike from the lash. He had promised their mother to protect Duro at all costs. And he had promised his brother the same.

His outburst resulted in the Roman shit losing interest in him, though before Agron could feel pleased with himself, the man made an offer for Duro instead. Agron’s heart sank when he realized that no amount of defiance would help them now. He had but two choices: Submit to their fate and secure Duro’s survival, or raise hackle until the merchant lost patience and killed him right there on the planks - and Duro possibly with him.

He took command of his raging emotions and forced himself to breathe. If he was to protect his little brother he had to raise above the man he was.

Negotiations ended quickly and the merchant reached for Duro’s bound hands. Agron seized this last opportunity to offer solace, leaning over until his forehead touched Duro’s.

“Calm yourself, brother. Do not do anything foolish. I will find you, I promise.”

“I will find you,” Duro vowed in return, and then he was pulled from the planks and out of Agron’s reach. Despite his own warning, Agron found himself unable to remain calm. He roared his anger into the sweltering midday heat and strained so hard against his restraints that his wrists chafed raw.

The lash struck again and again, finally submitting him to silence, as he fell into step behind the other men, escorted away by their new master, whose name Agron hadn’t even picked up amidst the rush.

What point was there to it, when he did not have his brother by his side?


	2. Faded Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiberius has been with his dominus for years. He has earned his respectable position within the house of Antonius, where he is treated and cared for well. Yet with the arrival of a new slave his world and views are starting to be turned upside down.

“Tiberius!” the familiar voice of his dominus called out across the villa's courtyard. Tiberius immediately stood at attention. His high position among the slaves granted him certain liberties, yet at the same time meant he was never to be far from the dominus' side.

“Fetch robe and gather supplies, I would leave before sunrise.”

Excitement was not the right term to describe how the young slave felt about the day's journey - he had accompanied good Antonius on numerous errands and occasions - still it was by far no common occurrence for him to leave the walls of the villa, and he considered himself honored to be held in such high regard that his dominus required his presence on his travels.

On request of dominus, Chadara had brushed and braided his hair and he was wearing his least tattered robe. They were for Neapolis on business, and Marius Antonius would not be seen as a man of mediocre standing.

“Dominus,” he addressed his master with an obeisant nod and held out the requested garment for the man to slide into.

“Is the wagon readied?”

“Yes, dominus,” Junis, another of Antonius’ slaves, hastily replied.

The group of four were quick to mount the vehicle and soon Junis had the horses upon road.

The ride toward the distant city took the better half of a day and while the wooden benches of the cart were hard and caused discomfort, Tiberius still enjoyed the travel immensely. He cherished every chance he got to take in the view around him, as it proved a nice diversion from the ever same walls of the villa.

Noon cast hot and blinding sunlight across the sky by the time they arrived at the gates of Neapolis and he felt sweat gather at the back of his neck, below the heavy curtain of his hair.

The streets smelled of excrement, sweat and dust. Tiberius thirsted for water but knew better than to ask before they had returned to Antonius' horse and cart. He lowered his gaze and watched dominus from the corner of his eyes.

Antonius led his escorting group of slaves through narrow streets upon a square not far from the harbor. From a distance echoed the sharp cries of sea-birds. Tiberius let his eyes roam in wonder at the sight of countless people, livestock and market tables full of riches a simple slave as himself would never be granted the pleasure of experiencing.

Antonius made several purchases that he had Junis carry for him as they continued to yet another open square. Tiberius knew the kind of trades that took place here. An auction was already underway - a group of women, young and naked, were sold to the highest bidders. On the opposing wall a row of men, lined up on wooden planks, caught Antonius' attention and Tiberius found himself equally enthralled.

A merchant commended the lot as _strong men from East of the Rhine_. Tiberius had little knowledge of those foreign lands, he had but heard the term a time or two in conversation of good Antonius and his acquaintances. He wondered what kind of a homeland would bring forth men of such remarkable form, and if all sons from East of the Rhine stood as giants.

Two men stood out among the group. Not only were they of a notable size and wore the same strangely matted hair, but they were talking among themselves as if in high spirits, despite their dire predicament. Their eyes were vivid and crinkled as they looked at each other with smiles upon their lips. They seemed simultaneously amused and defiant, even as the merchant wielded his lash and struck the taller of the pair across the chest.

Tiberius winced at the man’s hiss.

“Tiberius, what are your thoughts on these men?” dominus inquired.

“They appear healthy and strong,” he assessed approvingly.

“They do indeed.”

His lips pressed firmly together, Tiberius bit down a smile of pride. His words may not have held true weight but dominus still honored him by asking his opinion. He dared not make a more direct suggestion but let his eyes linger hopefully on the two men who had previously captured his attention.

Antonius lingered as well.

“They truly are of a form, are they not?” he pondered and took a step closer to the trader.

“Five denarii for this one.”

He pointed at the taller man, now presenting red streaks across his chest. The man's eyes narrowed when he realized he stood subject of the trade. Tiberius watched with piqued interest as his dominus engaged in negotiations.

The man growled and strained against his restraints.

“I will not be fucking parted from my brother!” he raged, causing the shackles on his wrists to clatter. The lash swished once more and Tiberius’ heart sank upon realization of what dominus’ resulting change of expression meant.

“I have no need for untamable beasts, I would place same offer for the other.” His words did not surprise, yet they did dissapoint.

Tiberius grit his teeth, forcing himself to remain still.

Something in the man's antics fascinated him. He had the build of a warrior yet the face of a boy. Tiberius stood unable to take his eyes off of him. The man’s confident, strong stance. His piercing eyes. His broad chest and shoulders.

Would that dominus stood by his first choice, Tiberius begged the gods to listen to his silent pleas, knowing they would likely not. It was so easy to envision the man among their ranks inside the villa. He would make a far more suitable replacement for recently departed Fintus.

Tiberius held his breath as Antonius raised his bid once more.

“100 denarii for the entire lot!”

A new voice distracted Tiberius from his thoughts. He observed the commotion and further negotiations with a feeling of stones in his stomach.

“As courtesy, I would leave you this one," the man who Tiberius suspected of more wealth than his own dominus proclaimed and Antonius agreed with a nod.

His chest felt tight as he cast a glance up at the rioting men, wild inside their shackles, until Antonius stepped forward and presented his lash.

The taller brother calmed himself and Tiberius watched him lean over and touch their foreheads together, breaking parting words. He had seen numerous slaves separated from loved ones, and he himself knew the bitter agony all too well, yet there was something in the heartfelt motion that stirred feelings in him he had not known before. Perhaps it was the contrast of these strong and unruly men turning to such gentle gestures, or perhaps he was merely struck by the palpable love they expressed for one another. Regardless, it made Tiberius catch his breath.

For but a moment both men remained still, though as soon as they were parted by force they began to roar and rattle against their restraints yet again until struck by their respective new domini.

“Duro it is?” Antonius cocked his head as he gripped his new slave hard around the neck and strapped a heavy leather collar around it. “Such a name rolls easily enough off tongue; you shall keep it.”

Duro, Tiberius repeated in his head and watched the man gradually calming himself as they made their way back to dominus’ cart. All the while, Duro continued quietly muttering what sounded like profanities under his breath in a foreign tongue.

“Keep your mouth shut or see yourself sent to the mines,” Tiberius hissed in well-meant warning.

“Did he not just spend precious coin on me?” Duro returned, his voice thick with cockiness.

“You possess dangerous mindset,” Tiberius warned yet again. He began to wonder why he cared.

“I only speak of logic.”

Correlius, dominus' right hand man, cast disapproving glances at the pair and readied his lash. Tiberius quickly averted his gaze and lowered his voice.

“Your logic is another man's foolishness,” he cautioned.

To his astonishment, it earned him a grin. This man was full of boldness and arrogance, but at longlast he ceased causing unwarranted ruckus.

\--

Two days passed without Tiberius laying eyes upon the new slave. Through the walls of his room however, he could hear the noise of dominus breaking him in. Loud and clear.

He remembered those first days of whippings, solitude and food deprivation, dominus asserting his reign over his new slaves. Antonius hadn't laid punishing hands upon him much since, Tiberius had been quick to learn obedience and agreeability, preventing unnecessary pain. Duro however clearly stood not such a quick study.

Even through separation of walls Tiberius could see the man's stoic, defiant expression as it had burned itself into his memory.

On the third day, dominus summoned Tiberius.

“Tiberius, I was heeding your advice with purchase of this man. Yet he does not respond as others before him have. I would have you go to Duro and see him to reason. Prove him worthy or see yourself punished in his stead.”

With a bow and a nod at his dominus, Tiberius set out for Duro’s cell. The room was stark, containing a simple pallet, two candles sitting atop a stool, and a bucket. Tiberius knew that his own elevated position allowed him much greater comfort; he slept inside an antechamber to dominus’ room, furnished with a real bed, oil lamps, and shelves for his meager belongings. Duro had yet a long way to progress, should he ever want to see such comforts for himself.

“Duro,” Tiberius began firmly. “You must fall to reason and obey our dominus.”

Although the other man stood far taller, Tiberius did not fear him. He knew that despite his own small stature, he possessed a commanding voice and eyes which no other slave turned from. He would be listened to.

“You play a dangerous game. Your behavior has consequences for all of us.”

“I was born a free man. I stand no slave to anyone and I will not be broken by lash!” Duro fired back as he used one hand to rub at a wound on the opposite arm.

“You will learn to abide by the rules or you will be for the mines. Or if dominus feels more lenient, you shall be parted from head.”

“I will not subject to this fate. I have to see myself freed and find my brother.” Duro began to pace the small cell.

“Stop wishing for what cannot be. At least pretend to be agreeable, you fool!”

“And who are you to command me, little man?”

Standing tall with his chest slightly out, Tiberius answered, “I am our dominus' trusted body slave. He would have me instruct you the ways of our villa. I would therefore have you know if one slave turns against his dominus, all others of the house shall be punished with him. Submit not only to save your own life, but all of ours.”

Duro huffed and exhaled. He looked at Tiberius and, at last, Tiberius saw an inkling of understanding cross the other man’s face. The set of his jaw seemed to soften.

“You do speak reason. If I am parted from head or sent for the mines, I cannot reunite with my brother,” Duro conceded at last.

“You see some light now,” Tiberius said with a firm nod. “And even one as strong as you must be weary of the lash. Now, listen to my words and heed them.”

\--

Tiberius was pleased to see Duro make progress in the days that followed. Despite his place being right at dominus’ side, he still monitored Duro as best as he could, knowing that Antonius expected him to ensure the German’s compliance.

It pleased him to see Duro following orders and learning his role in the villa.

One day, as Antonius enjoyed a late afternoon nap, Tiberius sought out Duro while he was at work repairing a wheel on one of the carts.

“You conduct yourself well,” Tiberius stated. “Dominus has plans to groom you to be his personal guard but you must continue to prove yourself trustworthy.”

“Already I comply with all instructions,” Duro replied flatly as he kept his gaze upon his work.

Tiberius bit back a smile. He enjoyed the fire in Duro’s eyes. The man did not wish to remain a slave - not that anyone would - and perhaps would never entirely lose his defiant streak. Tiberius could only hope that Duro kept his fire smoldering instead of erupting into a dangerous blaze.

“You are faring well. Be sure not to lose patience. Trust is not earned in the course of few days.”

Duro huffed in frustration as he listened to Tiberius’ words.

“Patience requires time my brother may not have.”

“Your brother appeared to me a man of strength and determination. He shall survive as you do.”

“May the fucking gods see it so,” Duro vowed.

Tiberius stood pleased and watched Duro return to his task.

“There is yet one fortunate thing I would have you know,” Tiberius began.

Duro turned to him eagerly.

“Word has it you shall be permitted to take evening meals with the others soon, no longer alone in your cell.”

A genuine smile appeared on the man’s face. Tiberius had thought him the sociable kind from the beginning. He suspected solitude to Duro was of equal torture as Antonius’ punishing hands.

“I shall look forward to it all day,” Duro admitted, and the joyous expression confirmed that indeed, Tiberius had been right in his assessment.

\--

The evening arrived at last, Duro to take his meal with the other male slaves. Inside Antonius’ villa, male and female slaves had always dined separately so as to discourage romance and sexual relations. Antonius had no desire to deal with pregnant slaves.

“Is there an evening routine after meal is taken?” Duro asked Tiberius as the two walked towards the dining area.

“For me, yes,” Tiberius replied. “Dominus requests my presence tonight. He does not always wish it, but when he does it stands a routine indeed.” He finished his sentence with a heavy sigh.

Duro threw Tiberius a questioning glance, but by then the other slaves began to file into the room and seated themselves at the table. One of them began to dole out the fare, which Duro could see was sparse but not unappealing.

In the absence of further comment or question from Duro, Tiberius continued. “To answer your initial question, Dominus often distributes tasks for the late evening, but on the rare occasion of a free night most of us tend to retire to our beds and enjoy the additional moment of rest. Dominus rises us early in the mornings.”

Two of the men began to speak of a dispute between Antonius and the leather tanner. Duro listened, but seemed eager to find a suitable moment to question Tiberius further. His eyes would always stray toward Tiberius and his mouth opened as if to speak, then shut again without a word uttered.

“What meaning held your words from before?” Duro asked at last. The others continued to chatter about the conflict, not paying Duro any mind. “What happens for you tonight?” Duro prodded.

Tiberius looked down at his plate. He kept his arms close to his side and gave only a cursory glance at Duro. “I tend to my dominus,” he said eventually. “As simple as that.”

Duro’s face was set to a frown, as he seemed to digest the words. Taking a breath, Tiberius turned to Duro and asked in a lighter voice, “What of your day? You appear absent new marks upon your body. Am I to assume you are adapting?”

Duro grunted in reply.

\--

On one such evening, dominus otherwise engaged and his presence not required, Tiberius found Duro in his room. In his pocket he carried a set of stones and a piece of chalk.

Duro’s eyebrow rose in question when Tiberius seated himself on the ground and began to draw squares onto the stone floor.

“Do you know the rules to play tria?” he asked, as he laid the stones out beside the finished grid. Duro shook his head but looked intrigued.

“Let me teach you.”

It did not take Duro much time to learn and understand the rules, Tiberius noted with a pleased smile. Soon they were on their third round of playing and conversation began to flow more freely, once Duro had to spend less effort on keeping up with the game.

“My brother and I used to play in the woods,” Duro reminisced. “Mother never managed to confine us indoors with games such as these.”

Tiberius smiled at the image of the man and his brother as children, wild and unruly as the day he had first seen them in the city of Neapolis. Only much smaller in stature.

“I would hear tales of your childhood, if you are of a mind to share.” Tiberius barely remembered his own mother, or instances of carefree child play. It baffled him to think how different the life of Duro must have been from his own.

“My favorite thing to play was war,” Duro began, a distant look crossing his eyes. “Agron of course bested me in battle. He stood the best fighter in all of the youth from our tribe. He taught me much as we sparred.”

“Was that in the lands East of the Rhine?”

“Yes. We hail from a small village surrounded by thick forest. When mother did not put us to chores, my brother and I found much to occupy ourselves with. Games of war, as I said. And we would swim when the weather permitted, and hunt with our father.”

Tiberius leaned forward as he listened. “You said Agron bested you in war. What of your other endeavors?” he asked with a smile.

“Oh, if he were here he would tell you how he stood the superior hunter and swimmer.” Duro paused and tilted his head. “And he would not be wrong. He always stood taller and stronger than I. But he has two years on me, in growth and in practice of everything.” Duro added quickly, holding up a finger. “Would that we had a brother younger than I, I am certain I would have bested him. It is not an easy feat to be the youngest.”

“You had no more brothers or sisters then?” Tiberius asked.

“None who lived past infancy,” Duro answered with a shake of the head.

“Well your parents must have been proud to have such strapping, hardy sons,” Tiberius ventured, his mind filled with images of the two young brothers.

“Mother shed tears of pride and sorrow the day we left for the South.”

Duro fell quiet, visibly shaken by the memory. Tiberius chose to allow him a moment, to regain composure. True to his nature, Duro broke words again within a few beats of the heart, voicing an observation that steered them to different matters.

“You bear Roman name, yet you speak with accent of foreign lands,” Duro observed, his features softening as he turned to look at Tiberius.

Unused to questions of his heritage, or any personal observations beyond remarks on his pleasant appearance, Tiberius wondered how to respond. “I was born Syrian,” he offered with downcast eyes, “but I barely remember land nor language.”

A curt nod from Duro and the man was back to the stones between them, sliding one to a new position.

“I win,” Duro laughed. Although Tiberius had not counted the numbers of rounds they had played he was sure it had taken Duro more than eight to finally best him once.

“Congratulations! Well played.” He smiled and began to collect the stones. “I shall leave you to cherish your victory. It is late; I must return to my own room now.”

Duro’s eyes still glinted with his final success, as he picked up the last pebble and placed it in Tiberius’ hand.

“Can we do this again?”

“Of course.”

\--

Another week slipped by, and Tiberius was able to breathe as much of a sigh of relief as was possible for a slave. Duro was completing his orders without complaint. True, Tiberius easily spotted the fire in his eyes, the traces of suppressed anger upon his face. But the absence of further marks upon Duro’s skin told a story - the thickheaded man wished to avoid further pain and would at least give appearance of submitting to his fate.

One morning Tiberius fastened his garment around his waist and quickly departed dominus’ bedroom, nearly colliding with Duro in the process.

“You move with purpose!” Duro observed with a laugh.

“The cook needs me,” Tiberius answered straightforwardly, smoothing his hair back. “Our order from the grocer comes in this evening, I am to move the heavy bags of grains and beans from storage to kitchen. Old Ava does not stand strong enough for the task.”

“Allow my assistance,” Duro offered. He flexed a muscle and grinned, “I am stronger than you.”

“You would stand surprised at the strength of a house slave like me,” Tiberius answered, half affronted.

Duro followed him through the corridors at a swift pace.

“You emerged from our dominus’ bedroom,” Duro said. “Do you bathe him in the mornings?”

Tiberius remained silent for a moment, and Duro pressed the matter.

“I merely seek to understand the workings of this place. What purpose serves your secrecy?”

“Concern yourself more with your own tasks than others’,” Tiberius hissed back in warning and continued to walk at a faster pace. Duro kept pace with him and placed a hand upon his arm.

“Apologies, I overstepped.”

Tiberius came to a halt and took a breath as he faced the taller man. Duro’s apology seemed sincere, and Tiberius understood that he himself had no cause to feel shame. “I am dominus’ body slave. What do you think my obligations as such entail?”

Duro looked down for a moment as if the meaning of Tiberius’ words began to take root.

“He fucks you.” he stated, his voice suddenly small, as if the weight of his words were too much for it to carry. It strained Tiberius’ heart to see such genuine dismay on the man’s face. Though Duro was prone to sudden bouts of anger and obstinacy, Tiberius had come to know him as a blithe and cheerful person. Despondence was not a look that suited him well.

“He fucks Chadara,” Tiberius answered bleakly. “I am merely to assist.”

Duro stood quiet, perhaps digesting the revelation and debating how much more to ask.

“Chadara? I believe I have seen her in passing,” Duro mentioned as the two men resumed their walk. “Fair hair and skin?”

Tiberius shook his head. “Strike thoughts from mind. Dominus does not permit relations between two slaves.”

With that, they reached the storage room and Tiberius set Duro to purpose.

\--

As more days came and went, Tiberius and Duro would find time for their occasional game of tria. When Antonius did not overburden their schedules, both men looked forward to this friendly diversion. They fell into conversation with ease, Tiberius sharing whispers of gossip he had picked up around the villa and Duro sharing fond memories of life with his sorely missed brother. Tiberius found he could listen to them endlessly.

After a couple of rounds, both taken by Tiberius, Duro regarded Tiberius with a thoughtful frown.

“I talk and talk of Agron and our home. You must know every man, woman and child from our village by now, yet I hardly know more of you than your distaste for being called _little man_.” His tone was light, a smile gracing his lips. “You once mentioned your Syrian heritage, yet never spoke of it again. I would learn more of you, if you are so inclined,” Duro added quickly.

Tiberius fell silent for several moments, his gaze upon his hands and the game pieces. He felt conflicted. Duro’s interest flattered. He wanted to share, wanted to be known. However, he knew that relationships among slaves, be they as friends or as lovers, would lead only to pain. He had witnessed it many times, a mother separated from her child or lovers sold apart from each other never to meet again. And yet the daily ache of loneliness caused equal suffering.

“My brother called me Nasir,” Tiberius said at last.

“You too have a brother?” Duro sounded intrigued.

“I barely remember him,” Tiberius admitted.

“I would hear tales of your upbringing,” Duro said with a gentleness that Tiberius had not observed from him before. “If you are of a mind to share.”

He pondered the offer for a moment. He had not spoken of his brother since they had been parted, years ago when they had yet been children. Nor mother and father. He had been taught to speak in common tongue, and only at the request of the dominus and his family. Memories of his own kin, of Syria, had been banished from mind until they were so far removed he could not even be sure that life had ever existed.

Duro yet looked at him with expectation and genuine curiosity, and Tiberius was suddenly overcome with the urge to share.

He cast his eyes to the ground, then closed them for but a moment longer to gather his thoughts and summon the words to express them.

“We were yet small children when the men came to our village. Our mother made us hide when she heard them outside. Qasim, my brother, he was older than I. I remember his hand so tight on my mouth I could barely take breath. The men, they raided our home. The whole of our village. There was so much screaming.”

As he spoke them, the memories became vivid inside his head.

It had been a long time since he had thought about his brother or thought of himself as Nasir. Those long forgotten memories stirred feelings in him he had not allowed to surface in more than a decade. Yet Duro in his improvident ways brought them out so easily. The pain of this loss, Tiberius assumed, would never dissipate, but giving voice to the memories just now seemed to have eased some of the weight of Tiberius’ heart.

Not even Chadara had knowledge of his given name, and she had stood his trusted friend for many years. In fact, it had been she who taught young Tibe- Nasir to leave behind all thoughts of who and what he had been in a previous life. She had instructed him in the duties of a body slave, calmed his nerves and soothed his shame after dominus first requested special favors of him. She knew his sensitivities and read his moods, yet she knew nothing of the child he had been prior to enslavement.

How had it taken Duro but a few weeks to challenge his composure?

The secret, he mused, may have lain in Duro’s genuine and confident manners. The way he spoke his thoughts, as though he were a man of free will and choice.

“Does your brother yet live?” Duro asked quietly.

“Only the gods know. He was sold to another dominus, many years ago. I have not had word of him since.”

Duro looked down and played with a speck of dust on his thigh. “Agron, my brother, he has not been from my side since we were children. He is all I have left. The thought of spending years apart, years not knowing whether he is still of this world…” Duro let his voice trail off. He then spoke again with a new firmness to his voice, “I must find out where he is and if he is well.”

“Would that it was so easily done.” He reached out and placed a hand on Duro’s shoulder. “Take heart. Many slaves are more fortunate than I have been. Chadara on occasion receives word of her mother and sister. They are with a nearby dominus, and word travels back and forth between our villas.”

“The gods favor her, then.” Duro surmised.

\--

That night, upon retiring to his room, Tiberius felt himself accompanied by unfamiliar melancholy.

He had immensely enjoyed his time spent with Duro, yet subject of their conversation had struck a sensitive vein in him. When time came to fall asleep he abandoned his customary position, flat upon his back, and curled instead onto his side.

A deep sadness had been stirred by memories recalled from a faraway past. He had not actively suppressed thoughts of Qasim or mother in many years, for they had faded from him gradually, until not even fleeting images of them yet haunted his dreams. Until this day. Tales of Duro and his brother Agron had made him long for what he himself had been robbed of when his own brother had been taken from him.

“Qasim,” he whispered into the silent darkness, desperate to summon an image to go with the name. He recalled dark eyes and wild dark curls atop the boy’s head. He remembered a gap between his teeth, when his brother laughed at him, reprimanding him for his own clumsiness with gleeful jests.

He imagined distant echoes or that very laugh, a sound heard seldom, once they were taken from their homelands, to be sold into slavery.

Wetness gathered in his eyes, another long lost sensation. Tiberius bit his lip to prevent the sounds of sobbing he felt bubbling up inside.

No, he thought, not Tiberius. His brother called him _Nasir_.

“Nasir,” he let the sound of the name roll off his tongue. “I am Nasir.”

He wiped at his tears and rolled onto his back, his eyes straining into the dark. He did not know what to make of his feelings yet. As long as he was property of Marius Antonius, nothing mattered but his role as Tiberius. Nasir, whoever he may be, had no place in this villa, nor would he ever.

Yet now there was another who knew of him. He could only hope his trust in Duro would not come to harm him one day.

\--

“Nasir!” Duro’s hushed voice called out to him, nearly causing him to lose grip of the sizable wine jug he carried.

“Do not call me that!” he replied in a harsh whisper, eyes frantically darting side to side.

“We are absent company,” Duro proclaimed, but looked regretful when he reached for the vessel and placed it upon the top shelf. “Apologies,” he offered quietly, “I only wish to use name better suited for you.”

Something about the man’s smile was disarming.

“Your intent flatters, yet this is my name no longer; I thought you understood. Was I wrong to put trust in you?”

Duro shook his head with purpose.

“Of course not. Apologies, Tiberius.”

Their eyes met and Tiberius felt his lips curl into a smile of his own, upon being hit by a realization - it had felt _right_ to hear his name from Duro’s tongue.

“Perhaps, in private, you shall yet call me by my name,” he offered, hushed and with another glance toward the door.

“Which one?” Duro asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

He smiled again, “Nasir.”

Duro held his hand out to clasp forearms on it and grinned.

“Are you free tonight, after evening meal?” he asked, as they began walking toward the dining area. Nasir negated what he presumed to be an unspoken invitation to share company.

“Dominus requested me,” he explained.

No longer alone, he chose to abstain from further talking and found his seat along the table, Duro, as usual, by his side.

As soup was doled out Duro loudly wondered why they found themselves absent sufficient bread this evening. He soon found support among the other slaves’ voices, sourly wondering the same.

“Maybe an oversight from the cook,” Nasir mused and motioned for Duro to get up. “Come, let us find out.”

They walked the short distance to the kitchen, where the women took their meals, and Nasir made Duro stand back as he called out to Chadara. A brief interaction later and his friend promised to procure more bread for them.

“The thin porridge we had this morning shall not keep me on my feet much longer,” Duro complained, leaning against the wall and facing Nasir as they waited for Chadara to return.

“A strapping man like you certainly needs as much nourishment as he can find,” Nasir agreed, not without a measure of humor in his voice. “Do not fear; we shall not be deprived.”

Chadara soon approached, her arms full with a proper load of bread.

“This should suffice,” Chadara said, handing the loaves to Nasir. Beside him, Duro stood uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes trained on Chadara with a look Nasir could not quite place. He knew that Chadara was a beautiful woman, and he suspected Duro regarded her as such. Yet he did not seem inclined to talk to her. Nasir decided to break words with him later and nudged Duro’s arm to garner his attention.

“Let us bring this to the table” he said, nodding to his cargo.

“Gratitude,” Nasir added, addressing Chadara. “It is much appreciated.”

“Of course.”

Chadara turned to look at Duro, an expectant look upon her face. But Duro seemed to have lost his speech. He simply glanced back and forth between Nasir and Chadara, and swallowed.

“Well then,” Chadara said after a bit. “I had best get back to my dinner and my duties. Old Ava is spinning another tale and it is not to be missed.” Smiling once again at Duro, she turned and departed.

\--

“Duro. He is of a form,” Chadara remarked later that evening, as they sat side by side in wait for dominus to appear for his bath.

“He seems to favor your company,” Nasir replied suggestively. It was not unusual for Chadara to lay eyes upon new slaves. He himself had stood subject to her appraisal when they first met.

“Yet you are the only one he speaks to,” Chadara argued. “Do not think me to have missed how often he is found by your side.” It was hard to tell if her voice was laced with envy or encouragement.

He frowned upon her words, intent to question her meaning, when dominus appeared from the doorway and let his robe slide to the ground. Nasir and Chadara took his hands to assist him into the water.

\--

“Tiberius, pour wine for good Irenius,” dominus requested, gesturing at the man who sat beside him upon a cushioned chair. Nasir nodded and brought forth the jug he had held ready.

Cornelius Irenius was a regular guest in the house of Antonius, trusted friend to the dominus, always sharing tales of the ins and outs of the city. Nasir found him dull in his repetitive parlance but the things the man spoke of no less intrigued him.

Nasir, as most slaves, was well versed in the art of listening discreetly while appearing servile and detached. What he heard on this day, however, proved challenge to remain calm over. Irenius often spoke at length of the infamous games of the city of Capua, half a day’s travel from the villa. Nasir liked to envision the gladiators, glorious and majestic in their skills. It was not blood and battle that stirred his imagination, as much as strong men, clad in armor and little else. Some names he had heard repeatedly. Irenius seemed to favor the Champion - a Gaul named Crixus - most. Yet now a new name caught Nasir's attention: a German gladiator named Agron.

His heart beat excitedly. _Duro’s brother._ Nasir felt a tremor in his hands at the thought of running back to break such staggering news with Duro. Unfortunately, he had to appear calm and continue to serve dominus and his guest.

As subtle as could be, he strained his ears for more words regarding Duro’s lost brother, though what he could gather was little. Agron was to be fought in the arena, alongside two more men from his ludus.

When Irenius finally parted, dominus requested Nasir to bathe and prepare to tend to him personally. Nasir brimmed with nerves, having to delay seeing Duro for yet another hour.

\--

“Duro!” He burst into the room at last that night, wary to keep his voice low. Duro was lying on his back in the dark, but sat up startled, as soon as Nasir entered.

“I bear joyful news,” Nasir proclaimed. “I believe I have heard word of your brother.”

Duro’s eyes grew big with excitement and he leaned forward, taking hold of Nasir’s hands.

“Speak it! Tell me everything you know.”

Nasir took a deep breath and began to relay what he had overheard earlier in the day. As he listened, Duro grew more restless with every sentence spoken.

“Would dominus be lured to watch the games? I must find way to accompany him.”

Nasir could see plans taking shape behind Duro’s vivid dark eyes. It weighed heavy on his heart to stop the man and thwart his enthusiasm, yet it had to be done. On his own, Duro would surely make foolish decisions and see them all punished. Nasir began to regret his own eagerness in approaching Duro with this matter.

Duro yet insisted, “You must find out more.”

Nasir dropped his friend’s hands. “I know nothing more than what I have shared. It is difficult to learn more without causing suspicion or irritation.”

Duro appeared undeterred. “There must be a way to learn more. Teach me how to gain dominus' trust faster so he will let me venture outside.”

“Your mind is of ridiculous foolishness, to believe he would let you leave these walls.” Nasir spoke the words with a smile though he hoped Duro understood the seriousness behind them.

“He allows you out,” Duro argued, his brow furrowed.

“Only in his company. And only after I had been with him for many seasons.”

After making his statement, Nasir took a deep breath. Duro’s company had been like a welcome ray of light over the past several weeks, and thoughts of Agron continued to fill Nasir with a strange but pleasant fluttering inside. And so he made a promise, against better judgement, to keep his eyes and ears attuned as best as he was able.

“I can offer no more than that, but I will do what I can,” he said sincerely.

“Gratitude,” Duro replied.

\--

Weeks passed of Nasir listening closely to every word broken between dominus and any of his acquaintances. Yet most of the conversations were dull and absent news of Duro’s brother or events at the arena of Capua.

Duro became more and more restless, and Nasir became frustrated, being bearer of disappointing news. Still, on the other hand he was exhilarated every time he snuck around in secret, whispering carefully with slaves from neighboring villas when Antonius received honored guests. He knew not to trust many, and took care not to spill too much. Yet, with their penchant for gossip, he found he didn’t have to offer much incentive to make any of the slaves talk when they felt unobserved.

It was on one such occasion, Nasir exchanging hushed words with a man named Amal - a fellow Syrian, as they had recently discovered - that he came upon new knowledge pertaining to the games.

He listened closely to everything Amal had to tell of his dominus’ keenest interest. His heart seized with excitement at the prospect of finally bringing forth news to Duro. His friend’s impatience was becoming harder to hide with every passing day. The only thing keeping the man focused was his expanded training. And Duro made great progress, as far as Nasir could judge. Soon, if he was fortunate, dominus would honor him with more responsible tasks than repairs and maintenance.

Despite the added workload - training did not relieve Duro of his other obligations - they managed to find time to meet for more games, on occasion. Such was unfortunately not the case this evening, and so Nasir had to improvise. What he had heard could not wait until morning. With careful looks over his shoulder he made his way to Duro’s cell long past darkness.

His heart beat high up in his throat when he slid the heavy bolt aside and pushed the door open, careful to avoid its telling creak.

“Duro, I come bearing information,” he whispered, once the door slid open and Duro startled into a sitting position.

“Nasir!” he hissed. “You cannot be here at this late hour!”

“Do not fret, just hear me out.”

He took a seat beside Duro on the narrow pallet and began to relay everything he had learned that day from Amal.

Duro listened with rapt attention.

“If what I hear holds true, your brother lives and trains inside a renowned ludus, owned by a lanista the name of Batiatus. Many champions have been trained beneath his roof. Agron has already gained reputation for besting famous opponent in the arena.”

“Such words bring joy to heart,” Duro said, leaning forward. “What else have you learned?”

“Not much, I fear. But take heart, such news is good. I do not wish to raise hopes, but a formidable gladiator can be given rewards, perhaps one day even purchase his own freedom.” Nasir then quickly added, “Do not get overly excited, though. I imagine such a thing would take years.”

“I must get word out there, then.” Duro said. “To let him know where I am.”

“That is impossible.” Nasir reasoned against Duro’s insistence.

“I shall yet find way.”

“You must proceed with caution and remain calm,” Nasir admonished. “Do not seek foolish endeavors and see yourself punished by dominus.”

He took Duro’s hand and looked at him insistently. When Duro finally nodded his assent, Nasir breathed out a relieved sigh only to feel his breath catch a moment later. Duro was leaning just slightly more forward and touched his head to Nasir’s in an intimate gesture Nasir had witnessed in others, yet never received himself.

He closed his eyes and stiffened, not knowing what to brace for. Was Duro going to take advantage of him? Or did the man expect an according reaction? When dominus made advances he was always clear in his orders, yet Duro did not seem to have the same intentions.

 _You are the only one he speaks to_ , Chadara’s suggestive words suddenly echoed in his mind.

“Apologies,” Nasir stammered out of habit, then placed his hand on Duro’s thigh.

Duro’s brows furrowed as he leaned back. His eyes narrowed and Nasir could see his mind work out a riddle. And then his lips shaped into an o.

“Apologies,” Duro returned, a soft chuckle accompanying his words, “I fear you mistake intent.”

Nasir felt his cheeks color with embarrassment, as understanding dawned.

“My gesture is mere sign of brotherly affection, I did not mean…” Duro trailed off and shook his head, then laughed again.

Shame burned down Nasir’s face and neck and he almost found himself wishing for dominus to appear and remove him from the room. He rose from the pallet and stumbled backwards, out of Duro’s reach.

“Apologies,” Nasir muttered again, “I thought you were…”

Duro followed, a smile on his face. His hand reached out to touch upon Nasir’s shoulder, making him halt in motion.

“I favor you,” Duro said firmly. “As trusted friend. Yet, my body does not favor men.”

Duro’s words seemed more sincere than any Nasir could remember having ever been directed at him.

“Apologies,” Nasir repeated.

“Think nothing of it,” Duro said, still smiling. He tilted his head, a question dawning inside him. “I did not raise false hope in you, did I?”

Nasir promptly shook his head, his shoulders sagging with relief.

“The opposite in fact. I… I…” Nasir fumbled for words, “It pleases eyes to look at you, yet I do not think I favor you as more than trusted friend.”

Duro looked instantly more at ease.

“You think?” he jested, teasingly.

Nasir stood silent.

“My brother. He would be more inclined toward your charms,” Duro offered. He gave a slight shake of his head. “It eludes me how a man can fail to appreciate the beauty of women. But then some men truly are of a form, I suppose.”

Relieved to have the conversation off of his error, and relieved that Duro was not about to dwell on it, Nasir decided to press the matter yet a little more.

“Your brother favors men?” he asked, intrigued.

“He never has expressed much of an interest in women,” Duro said, still smiling but shaking his head. “The village’s most beautiful maiden Isolda could walk by with her dress slipping down past her tits and Agron would not even give a second glance.”

His gaze drifted off pensively as he seemed to recall another memory, “I on the other hand, would have picked every flower ever grown, just to have Isolda grace me with even a smile.”

Listening to Duro’s revelation, Nasir found his good spirits returning. And along with them a thought occurred to him. He grinned.

“Chadara will be pleased to find out she was wrong.”

“Chadara?” Duro’s interest was barely concealed.

“Have you not seen her eyes upon you? She refrains from seeking your company only because she believes you to favor me. As more than friend.”

The excitement on Duro’s face was endearing, Nasir decided.

“Gratitude my friend; your words truly lift heart,” Duro said, with shining eyes.

\--

That night, when Nasir lay upon his pallet, sleep would not come. Instead, images of Agron danced around his mind and he allowed himself but a moment to dream. He had not dared to let thoughts of such nature take shape before; relationships among slaves always brought heartache so Nasir studiously avoided walking down that path. Yet after his latest conversation with Duro he found himself unable to suppress these thoughts. He had never forgotten the day he had first spotted Agron in the market. He still remembered the man’s face and his strength and ferocity. And now Duro had added another facet to the intriguing image of the man.

Nasir’s thoughts continued to swirl around. Had Agron taken lovers back in the lands East of the Rhine? Had they kissed and held each other the same as any two people in love? And what of Agron now? Perhaps he had found solace in another gladiator’s arms. The image stirred his loins enticingly.

Swiftly, Nasir shook his head, knowing that he had to fall to reason. Slaves were not permitted infatuations or dreams of the future. They must not crave the attentions of another. They must devote their lives to their masters’ whims or face severe consequences. Nasir could not afford to behave as a fool.

\--

For days Nasir suppressed the ever returning images, until they eventually ceased to occur unbidden.

Nasir and Chadara stood inside dominus’ bedroom, waiting for him to arrive. His footsteps might be heard at any time, so they held themselves ready, their postures upright. However, Nasir noticed that Chadara seemed in much lighter spirits than she usually did when waiting for dominus. Her face lacked the familiar frown.

“You seem in good spirits, Chadara,” he observed quietly.

Chadara could not ward off a smile.

“It is Duro. He came to see me today, when I was hanging the laundry to dry.”

“What did he want?” Nasir asked.

“To let me know I was wrong to believe his heart was taken by you.”

Nasir, having known of Duro’s intentions long before he had set out to seek Chadara, cocked his head at her with a teasing smile.

“He did?”

“He kissed me,” Chadara all but whispered, and barely managed to contain her excited giggles. Despite the stab of envy, Nasir felt genuine joy for his friend. He took her hand and gently squeezed it.

“I am beyond happy on your behalf. But promise me you will be careful. If dominus was to ever find out…” He ceased abruptly and straightened his posture again when footsteps of the man in question could be heard. Chadara answered with a curt nod and straightened her shoulders. The smile she directed at dominus was well practiced and lacked any of the sparkle she had had in her eyes just moments before.

\--

The gods seemed to favor his friend, Nasir mused. Not only did Duro’s affection for Chadara cause permanent smiles upon his lips, but also Marius Antonius seemed pleased with Duro’s demeanor, trusting him to continue training under Correlius and offering him position higher up the chain. Should Duro continue on his proper path he would soon be promoted to personal guard, Nasir was sure. And he was glad Duro hadn’t broken even one word of absconding the villa and going on a futile one man rescue mission for his brother.

He still spoke of Agron often, and there was always fire in his eyes when he did. One day, he vowed, one day he would seize opportunity. Yet not before he could ensure the safety of both Chadara and Nasir.

It warmed his heart to be held in such high regard, especially now that Duro’s heart was taken by love and romantic notions. It was a secret only Nasir shared in, another matter that made him feel special. On the downside though, occasions to spend time together had grown more sparse since Duro had chosen to spend more of his stolen moments with Chadara instead. He could not fault him, but missed their close companionship nonetheless.

\--

There had been whispers before, Nasir had heard them here and there, of a gladiator named Spartacus, who was known to the people of Capua as the _bringer of rain_. The very same Spartacus was now said to have forged a rebellion. Having fled his dominus in cold blooded murder, to seek vengenace on noble Romans and to free the enslaved along the way. Nobody was to speak of this. Punishment would find any slave who dared utter the name or sympathise with his cause. Nasir had seen with his own eyes, slaves upon cross on the market place, when last he had been on an errand with Antonius.

Duro, of course, was enraptured with such tales.

And that was long before that fateful day they found out the name of the dominus Spartacus had struck and fled - no other than Quintus Lentulus Batiatus, owner of the very same ludus Agron had been sold off to.

It was hard to contain Duro’s exuberance when word once again was broken at meal time. Always mindful of the guards, Nasir knew well enough that no fellow slave could truly be trusted in matters of life and death. If Duro raised suspicion, no matter how well-liked he had become among some of the other men, not one would hesitate to sell him out to the dominus, if under their masters’ inquisition. Such were the stakes.

Nasir kicked Duro’s shin under the table, hoping it would be enough to curb his eagerness, when once again he responded too quickly and absent common sense to gossip shared.

“They struck down every soul in the house of Batiatus, honored guests and Roman guards,” Lior related what he had picked up on earlier in the day. His voice kept low, he still spoke with awe.

“Mighty men,” Duro mused, “all these gladiators trained to fight and kill.”

He could tell how hard it was for Duro to refrain from boasting of his brother standing among these mighty men.

“Yet for futile cause,” Junis chimed in, shaking his head, “Freedom is but fanciful notion, never to be gained by simple slaves like you and I.”

 _I stand no simple slave_ , Nasir could see Duro thinking behind tensely pursed lips, though thankfully he kept the words inside.

\--

As the days passed by, Nasir used every bit of his well-honed discipline to focus on his tasks at hand while throwing Duro cautionary glances as often as he deemed necessary. Neither he nor Duro nor anyone else here knew what had truly happened at the house of Batiatus. Had this Spartacus truly led a rebellion then perhaps half of the slaves could have been killed, Agron among them. Conversely Agron and the other rebels might be so far from Capua by now that Duro would never lay eyes upon his brother again in this lifetime. But still, the slave cells were so alive with the buzz of excitement that Nasir could almost feel it in his bones. If nothing else, word of a slave revolt gave a stirring of hope. Could there truly be more to life than bowing and stooping to dominus’ every desire?

That thought remained on Nasir’s mind as he and Chadara bathed and prepared themselves. Dominus had given clear instructions as to his wishes for this evening. It never got any easier and Nasir truly never grew accustomed to his body being used as another person’s toy. He could do nothing but brace himself and remember the fate to which the gods had consigned him. And hope that the next life might be better. Perhaps he and Agron could meet in the next life and be granted chance to live as the Romans did, to sip wine together and listen to the music of harps as Duro and Chadara played with their children in the next room.

Nasir glanced at Duro who stood guarding dominus’ door as had long since become custom. As the events unfolded in their usual fashion, Nasir looked up at Duro again. The man was fuming, one fist tightly clenched as he watched the scene. Nasir admired his restraint, knowing of his ever growing urge to intervene and claim Chadara as his own, while dominus absentmindedly fucked into Chadara, his breathless grunts echoing through the room.

Chadara in turn never allowed her eyes to even glance in Duro’s direction.

Nasir put his mind to his own task. He knew with most unfortunate experience when dominus would need him, and he reached beneath his garments to begin stroking himself at the appropriate time. Nasir had to be careful not to ready himself too early or - worse - too late. Closing his eyes, his thoughts drifted once more toward Agron, drawing up the images from that day in the market. And Duro’s words, about how his brother never gave a beautiful woman a second glance, about how Agron favored men. Was there a world where Nasir could be with someone like Agron? Would it be like the scene playing out now in front of Nasir? No, Nasir silently answered himself. If Agron was kind like his brother, there would be much gentleness beforehand. Tender kisses, surely, and long gazes into each other’s eyes.

“Tiberius! I would finish!” dominus startled him out of his dream, his voice strained when he specified his request.

The moment Nasir stepped forward, he heard a sudden commotion from outside. It happened so quickly, Nasir found himself short of breath. There was shouting and grunting and the sound of metal clanging, the unmistakable clash of sword against sword. Dominus began cursing and ordered Duro to find out what was going on.  
No sooner than the words were spoken two warriors barged in, sharp weapons drawn and roars emitting from their throats. In his periphery, Nasir could see Duro trying to ward one man off, while the other went for their dominus. And then another came to usher him and Charara out into the corridor.

Men continued to invade the villa, yelling and swinging blood-stained weapons through the air, looking nothing like the glorious gladiators and saviors Nasir had previously imagined. And still somehow he knew these were the rebels, Spartacus and his lot, as whispered of in the streets.

Despite promises of “We mean you no harm,” he was seized roughly by the neck and escorted outside, Chadara not far behind. He watched as Duro still struggled against the bulky man who held his arms to his back and hissed a warning at him.

Behind him he heard the wails of Marius Anronius, as he was beaten and kicked.

In all the turmoil, Nasir barely had time to comprehend, the flurry of yelling warriors, flying weapons and spilled blood making it hard to keep focus. He found himself inside the courtyard, side by side with all the others. Lior stood trembling beside him on one side and Duro was roughly shoved to stand on his other.

More rebels herded them together, coming from all directions out of the villa, while dominus madly raged on.

“Cease struggling! They are here to free us,” Nasir hissed.

“That mad fuck nearly struck me down,” Duro replied, his voice reminding Nasir of the obstinate child Duro had been but a handful of months before. He kept his eyes on Duro warily, praying for him to rein in his temper. His friend seemed to calm himself, as reason set it, until, with a sudden bolt he lunged forward.

It took less than the blink of an eye for Nasir to find the reason, he whispered it at the same time as Duro’s throaty shout rang through the air.

“Agron!”

The man looked different, yet it was unmistakably him. Sturdier and absent the wild matted hair Nasir remembered, yet with those same fierce eyes.

“Duro!” He exclaimed above the noise, rushing forward to grasp his brother in a tight embrace that warmed Nasir all through, despite the night’s gentle chill. He watched them cling to each other, fingers sharply digging into necks.

In that moment he knew, all would be well.


End file.
